Trial By Fire
by kristii
Summary: Caught up in a power struggle beyond her scope of comprehension, eight-year-old Mars faces the ultimate trial by fire: the stake...


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Trial By Fire, by Kristii

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Something I've always wondered: can Mars ever burn?   
  
After all, you'd think her role as the Fire Senshi would prevent   
that... or would it??

  
Thoughts and comments -- aznvballgurl@yahoo.com

  
Sailor Mars and all affiliated characters (c) Naoko Takeuchi   
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"Bitch!"   
  
"Impostor!"  
  
"Slut!"  
  
"Fake!"  
  
The crowd jeered and yelled as the Priestesses hauled me to   
the makeshift stage. I could almost feel the anger in their eyes, feel  
the anger in their hearts:_ You are an impostor! For years, you have   
deceived us, you and your family living in luxury while the people of   
Mars starved... See how you like it now, bitch; your uncle has told   
all. You still insist that you are the Mars child, bitch, but you're   
not... The Mars Child is lost... And you, dear, are a bastard child, a   
child born out of wedlock to the king..._  
  
_Die, bitch, die..._  
  
Eight years old... I was eight years old, and here I stood,   
reading the hearts and minds of these angry people... I only vaguely   
understood the matter, really: somehow, after years and years of   
famine, the people had come to the conclusion that the Goddess was   
punishing them because the true king was not on the throne. And   
somehow, my own uncle, brother to my father, had fueled on the   
whispered words, lending his credence to the rumors of my father's   
illegitimate birth.   
  
And the people had believed him. The famine had begun shortly   
after my father took reign--was it possible, perhaps, that he was truly   
a bastard, that their real lord was his brother? No one could say for   
sure, but when the sandstorms buried yet another year's crops, the   
suspicions grew stronger; when the High General Hino stormed the   
palace with his troops and seized his brother and his family, there   
was no anger of betrayal, only a faint relief that perhaps--just   
perhaps--the time of famine would be over...   
  
And so the public had watched the king's hurried trial, had   
hoped with all their hearts at his execution that the killing would   
appease the Goddess. But another storm had descended the very night of   
the burning; thousands had drowned in the red dust as they slept,   
forever buried below encroaching desert...   
  
It was a sign, my uncle proclaimed. The usurper had been   
punished, but his daughter had inherited the throne; only after her   
death, by the hands of the High Priestesses in the ancient rites of   
sacrifice, would the Goddess cease her vengeance. Only then, could he   
resume the rightful role that had been denied him years ago, and bring   
new peace and prosperity to the Martian people...   
  
And so I stood here now, bound to my funeral pyre, my uncle   
addressing the roaring crowd as two Priestesses approached with the   
light from the Sacred Fire. "Princess," one said softly, her face lit   
by the torch in her hands. "Good night..."   
  
The flames were around me before I realized what was   
happening. The crowd was roaring in approval; I felt a scream rise in   
my own throat...   
  
And then, suddenly, the terror was gone. The cries about me   
faded away to mere whispers; the only sound I could hear was a   
strange, beautiful voice, whispering:  
  
_What are they doing to you, child? What are they doing?_ The   
voice rose, its tones thick with fury. _What are they doing to the   
Goddess? How dare they desecrate her body like this--how dare they bind   
her wrists and lash her to crude wooden poles and laugh and jeer and   
call her names? How dare they? They call themselves the people of   
Mars, do they not? How dare they go and humiliate the Goddess then?   
How dare they...?_  
  
And then I knew, and I understood everything. "Go," I   
whispered, and the flames leapt up, then parted. The crowd froze in   
awe; I looked at them once more, these pale, scared Martian faces...  
  
"You are wrong." My voice was strong, a voice that somehow did   
not seem my own, a voice far older than any eight-year-old child could   
possess. "My father was never an imposter. Ask this man--" I   
gestured to my uncle, standing near the stage. "--if he is of true   
blood... Ask him!"  
  
There was silence; I continued after a moment, my voice lower.   
"He says nothing. For he is not of true blood, you see, he is the true   
bastard prince. Through his trickery, he has murdered your true   
lord, and now he wishes to destroy the last of the true Martian rulers   
to secure a throne never meant for him... "  
  
The man found his voice after a moment. "Beautiful, Princess,"   
He said softly. "It has long been rumored that your witch of a mother   
knew spells against sacred flames; I should have known that, with your   
forsaken birthright, even the Goddess would not take your body as   
libation-"  
  
"And how would you know the desires of the Goddess?" A force   
was gathering in my body, a raging fury like none other I had ever   
felt before. "You--you of all people known nothing about her wishes.   
Ever since my father took the throne, you have coveted his kingdom,   
and the Goddess in her fury has punished my people for your jealousy. 

Twenty years, Mars has starved; twenty years, she has suffered,   
yet still you refuse to repent your ways!" I looked my uncle directly   
in the eyes, unflinching at the rage reflected at me. "This was the   
last straw, uncle; your jealousy has murdered the child of the   
Goddess' own progeny, and your blood will pay her vengeance--"  
  
"Shall we bet, Princess?"   
  
There was a searing pain in my brow, and the crowd gasped   
collectively. My uncle's face blanched suddenly, and his hand moved to   
his sword... "Yes," I said softly, and my hands clasped before my   
chest. "I've returned to my people, Hino Tanaka; you've finally   
awakened me, after all these years..."   
  
My uncle moved toward me, but it was futile; there was rage in my veins, 

pulsing through my body and collecting in my fingers. "I..."--my hands 

shot out before me--"am..."  
  
"...Mars!"  
  
And as the crowd stared, flames that had not been seen for   
centuries leapt from my fingers. The usurper's ashes fluttered   
down as I stood silent, hands still outstretched, the ancient sign of   
the Goddess glowing fiery on my brow...   
  
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like it? hate it? tell me: aznvballgurl@yahoo.com...


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